D Gray Man

Pour sauver ma famille, je mourais d'un empoisonnement à l'argent. Marcus, mon fiancé, qui m'avait promis de ne jamais m'abandonner, voulait désormais prélever mon rein en bonne santé pour Céleste, la fille adoptive de mes parents. Personne ne se souciait de savoir si je vivais ou mourais. Alors, j'ai refusé le traitement conservateur. Je me suis injecté la potion de vie de la sorcière. Le prix ? Dans soixante-douze heures, je devrais mourir d'une défaillance totale des organes. Durant ces trois jours, j'ai offert mon centre de guérison privé — celui que j'avais construit de mes propres mains — à Céleste. Maman et Papa ont rayonné de joie. « Ma bonne fille, tu as enfin mûri. Tu prends soin de ta sœur, maintenant. » Marcus a voulu reporter notre mariage pour s'occuper de Céleste. J'ai accepté calmement. Il m'a félicité d'avoir enfin fait preuve de compréhension. J'ai même cédé mon poste de guérisseuse en chef de la meute à Céleste. Mes parents et Marcus étaient si enthousiastes qu'ils ont organisé une grande fête en son honneur. Ils ont invité toutes les personnalités influentes de la meute pour célébrer sa nouvelle fonction. Je me demandais simplement une chose : après ma mort, verseraient-ils une seule larme pour moi ?

Five years after our son was born, I finally faced the truth: my wife didn't love me—or our boy. Determined to end this miserable marriage, I made plans to leave and take our son with me. But fate had other ideas. A car accident cost me a kidney and took our son's eye. At my lowest point, my usually distant wife fell to her knees right in the hospital corridor, begging for forgiveness. She swore she would spend the rest of her life taking care of us. We decided to give her one last chance—a 100-day trial. If she made it, we'd stay together. But on the ninety-ninth day, my son and I overheard her talking to the attending physician. "Emma," the doctor said, "did you really arrange that accident to secure organs for Daniel Carter's son? You did that to take a kidney from your husband and an eye from your son—was it worth it?" Emma Evans's voice was eerily calm. "It was worth it. As long as Daniel is happy, I'd do anything." "And what if your husband and son find out?" She fell silent for a moment, then instinctively touched the wedding ring on her hand. "Then they'll never know. They just want a family; I'll do everything I can to make up for it." So the "changed woman" we thought we knew was just an act—a carefully built lie. The happiness my son and I had begun to believe in was nothing more than a story she'd crafted to protect the person she really loved. Every kindness, every effort—it had all been quietly weighed and paid for in advance.

Élianor est une jeune femme dont l'existence n'a été qu'une longue souffrance. En raison de son poids, elle fut toute sa vie la cible des railleries, autant dans le cercle de sa famille que dans celui de toute la ville. Les murs de l'école furent pour elle le théâtre d'un harcèlement quotidien et impitoyable. Son calvaire atteignit son paroxysme lors d'une humiliation publique, si cruelle et si violemment orchestrée qu'elle se retrouva couverte d'un opprobre indélébile aux yeux de tous. Brisée et rongée par la honte, elle n'eut d'autre choix que de fuir cette cité devenue un enfer. Son exil fut marqué par un drame supplémentaire : elle partit, portant en elle un enfant dont elle ignorait la paternité, fruit possible d'une ultime violence ou d'une relation désespérée. Cinq ans plus tard, Élianor fait son retour. La jeune fille timorée et meurtrie a disparu. À sa place se tient une femme d'une beauté à couper le souffle, mince et rayonnante, dotée d'une puissance et d'une autorité qui ne peuvent être contestées. Elle revient sur la terre de son ancien cauchemar avec une seule et unique obsession : se venger avec une froide méthodité de tous ceux qui l'ont brisée, et faire payer à la ville entière le prix de son indifférence et de sa cruauté.

La vie d'une orpheline à Bamako, changée par le basket-ball. Chronique fictive mais tirée des faits réels. De ghetto girl à richkid

Les misères d’une vie est le reflet parfait de notre société, les riches marginalisent les pauvres et la trahison et la jalousie viennent s’engouffrer dans cet brouhaha, la vie n’est pas toujours facile eh ben ...

Before my parents died, they entrusted me to the most powerful vampire clan — the Vanderlooms. I married Jason, the heir, and spent ten years by his side — only to discover he'd gotten his vampire subordinate pregnant. He said I was just a human. That conceiving a vampire's child was nearly impossible for someone like me. That even if my parents died saving his life, it didn't mean I could hold on to the title of lady of the house forever. Vicky said she needed human blood for her pregnancy and demanded I serve as her blood thrall. Jason just watched with casual indifference. He didn't stop her. So I packed my bags and calmly handed him the divorce papers. He sneered. "That trick doesn't work anymore. You want to leave? Go ahead." "Give it a week. You'll come crawling back." But what he didn't know was that I'd already accepted another man's proposal. This time, I was done loving him for good.

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

Jim Charleston is my foster brother. He and I have been dating in secret for 10 years. On the day we decide to go public, Jim receives an undercover mission assignment to Duskhaven, where he has slim chances of returning alive. The night before he left, he held me and promised, "If I come back alive, I will marry you in a grand wedding. I'll stay by your side forever." Foolishly, I broke ties with my family and waited for him. I became the laughingstock of the entire high society circle. Three years later, Jim returns but with a ruined reputation and enormous debts. Kneeling like a broken man before our father, he firmly declares, "I promised Anne I would take care of her for life, Dad!" The woman named Anne hid timidly behind Jim, clutching her pregnant belly tightly. Dad turns to me instinctively. Everyone is waiting for me to lose my mind and cause a scene. However, I just smile. Right then and there, I accept the engagement ring from the good-for-nothing playboy. On the day of my engagement party, Jim drives in recklessly. With a gun in his hand, he shouts, "Cecilia Forrest! If you dare go through with this marriage, I'll kill him!"

When I was ten, I accidentally overheard my mother on the phone. It seemed like she was talking about me being a switched-at-birth rich girl, and that my real last name was Gardner. The coldness and cruelty my mother had shown me all these years suddenly made sense. When I turned 11, I paid an adult to get a maternity test done for both my mother and me. The results confirmed that I was indeed her biological daughter. I kept the report to myself and pretended I was still in the dark.

[ NOW ONGOING. ] ‘I can’t wait to make you mine, Lorelei.’ I read the text with a naughty smile. That’s Leo. The man I fell in love with via chat. I thought it was dumb to love someone you’ve never met, but look at me now. ‘I can’t wait for you to rip off my underwear.’ I texted and sent. Shivers ran down my spine while waiting for his response. Sexting through casual texts has become a thing I enjoy with him now. I bit my lips as I stared at our chat, anticipating. Just then, someone barged into my room. I put my phone down like I was doing something wrong. It was my mother. She has a worried look on her face. My father and stepmother walked in holding an envelope. I stared at them confused. “Pack your things and leave. You will get married on Thursday.” My father said cruelly. My brows creased and I tried to object but he held out the papers. “You don’t have a say in this Lorelei. I already sold you out.” What is he talking about? How can he arrange my own wedding? I knew I wasn’t my father’s favourite child, but this is next level hate. “Go and live with your husband. He bought you. And darling, there’s no turning back.” My stepmom added with a smile and threw the document on my bed. I picked it up and read the first page. ‘This contract seals the marriage between Ace Salvatore and Lorelei Stanley.’ Ace Salvatore? The man rumoured to be the devil himself.... My phone made a gentle ding and I looked at it. It was Leo. Tears cascaded my eyelids. How can I marry someone when I’m in love withsomeoneelse?